Blind Devotion
by 1Corinthians 1313
Summary: I am not from this world, nor do I call it home. Yet. Will I ever belong? Or will I remain an outsider with no way to even see the world I am in? Why is he cold, but warming slowly? He does not feel I belong either. Does anyone?
1. I can't see

**THIS IS A PLOT BUNNY THAT I HAD RUNNING AROUND IN MY HEAD, BEGGING TO GET OUT.**

 **Disclaimer: If I was Tolkien, and owned LOTR, I would not be on a FANFICTION website.**

 **Chapter 1: Inaccurate Information**

The stone underneath my feet was cold, smooth. The wind smelled of Autumn, and I could hear a waterfall nearby. What had just happened? I took a tentative step forward, my foot feeling for an edge. This was most definitely not my bedroom.

"H-hello?" I asked cautiously. "Is anyone there?" I continued inching forward until my outstretched hand met a stone railing. I followed it along, keeping my free hand outstretched,

I heard a brief rustle of clothe, then " _Daro_!" the voice commanded sharply.

I froze, what language was that? "Um…" very eloquent, Millie, I thought sarcastically. I tried again, "Um… what?"

I felt the voice's owner move closer. " _Pedil edhellen_?" I felt afraid. It was the same feeling you get when your mother loses you in the store. Lost and alone.

I reached my hand out towards the voice, "Do you speak English?" I almost whispered the question.

"Who are you, and what is your business in Imladris?" a large hand grabbed my wrist.

I flinched at the contact. The hand was surprisingly strong. Imladris? Is that a place? "Imladris? What's 'Imladris'?" Where have you gone and gotten yourself lost at?

The voice sighed, "Rivendell, in the Common tongue." the hand's grip tightened, almost imperceptibly, "Your name?"

"Emilie O'Malley." I touched the hand that held my wrist, then the voice's arm. They were wearing armor, incredibly decorative armor. Question started forming in my head, but I brushed them aside for later. I remembered to be polite, "You are?"

"I am Glorfindel Losgloriol." He removed my hand from his arm and released my wrist. "You are not from Arda. Yet, I do not feel a purpose behind your existence." He sighed, "The Lord of Imladris is otherwise concerned, or he would wish to speak to you. As it stands, I would have you come with me until your appearance can be explained."

I hesitated, "Where are we going?" I asked warily. "And who is this 'Lord of Ilmadirs' person?"

I could hear the frown in his voice when he responded, "It is 'Imladris', not 'Ilmadirs', and the Lord of Imladris is Elrond Peredhel." I heard the swish of fabric, "Follow me."

I snapped my hand out and grabbed a handful of what I assume was Glorfindel's cloak, don't leave me! "I can't actually… see." I mumbled.

He turned slowly, " _Henig_ , what do you mean, you cannot see?"

I shrugged philosophically, "I'm blind. I can't see."

He pulled his cloak away and took my hand in his, " _Henig, av-'osto_. Come with me."

Glorfindel took me by my elbow and led me slowly into a building. The entire building seemed to be made of perfectly cut blocks of marble, and smelled like warm, apple cider. I couldn't tell if it was dimly lit, but it felt bright. Cheery even.

"We are here. There is a slight step down." He lead me carefully into a room, but I kept my free hand on the wall, to keep my balance. I felt a soft rug on the floor, and heard a fire crackling somewhere to my left.

"Where are we?" I asked quietly.

He led me to a large chair and sat me down. "We are in part of the Healing Hall. Wait here, henig."

I didn't hear him leave, but I knew he had. I finally allowed myself to think. Where was I? What exactly was Rivendell? How did I get here? This had to be some sort of prank, but who would prank me? Not my parents, and my sister never would. They wouldn't be that cruel. I didn't have many friends, and none of them were close enough to ever do something like this. Maybe someone drugged me and dropped me off in this place?

I allowed myself to panic. What if I could never get back home? What if that Glorfindel character was some sort of psychotic maniac? If he was, then I could consider myself very dead. But he didn't seem like a psycho, and I had always prided myself as a pretty good judge of people. No, I decided, Glorfindel was a good guy. But what was that language he was speaking?

I hadn't realized that I was thinking aloud until I was answered, "The language Lord Glorfindel was speaking was Sindarin, henig." the voice was deep, melodious. Like Glorfindel's was, now that I thought about it.

"Um… hello?" I ventured, looking towards where I thought the speaker was.

"Greetings, young one. I am Erestor." the voice replied, sounding faintly amused.

I smiled. The people here had very strange names. "Nice to meet you. I'm Emilie O'Malley. I'm not exactly young, though." I swung my feet back and forth beneath my chair, timidly. "What's Sindarin?"

I could feel him studying me as he sat. "Sindarin is the tongue of the Elves."

My mouth dropped open in disbelief, "Elves?" I asked incredulously, "But Elves are short, toy builders, aren't they?" Glorfindel was certainly not one of Santa's little helpers.

Erestor's response was clipped, and he sounded annoyed. "No, those are Dwarves. We Elves are quite tall compared to other races, and we most certainly do not build toys." I had most definitely offended him.

"I'm sorry, just…" I trailed off awkwardly. "I didn't mean to offend…" I looked down apologetically.

He stood abruptly with a swish of fabric, "No, no harm done. One cannot expect accuracy from an Edain."

I heard him leave, and suddenly felt very alone. What if this isn't a prank. What if this is real? The thought made me shiver, but with fear or excitement, I couldn't tell.

As I sat waiting, I ran my hands back and forth over the arms of the smooth wooden chair. The repetitive action, the heat from the fire, and the barrage of thoughts gently lulled me to sleep.

I dreamed of a face. Erestor's face. He had thick black hair that framed his angular features, accented by stormy grey eyes. Even though I had never seen a single thing in my life, I still knew that it was him.

 **ELVISH TRANSLATION**

 **'Daro' Halt**

 **'Pedil edhellen' Do you speak elvish**

 **'Henig' Child**

 **'Henig, av-'osto' Child, don't be afraid**

 **I AM USING AN ONLINE DICTIONARY FOR THE ELVISH, AND AM HOPING THAT NOBODIES TOO OOC. THAT WOULD MAKE ME SAD :'( PLEASE REVIEW! GLORFINDEL WILL HUG YOU IF YOU DO! :)**


	2. Gandalf, what have you been smoking?

**THANK EVERYONE FOR ALL OF YOUR REVIEWS! THEY MADE MY DAY! :)**

 **AS A REWARD, HERE'S ANOTHER CHAPTER FOR ALL OF YOU PEOPLE!**

A hand brushed my face, "Wake up, child." the voice was deep, rasping slightly with age. I only noticed the hand.

"Nnnng. Go 'way, mom." I swatted at it and attempted to roll over. My knee hit the arm of the wooden chair, waking me up completely. I hadn't even realized that I had fallen asleep until I was awake.

I sat up, straightening my t-shirt. "I didn't mean to fall asleep." I didn't want to seem disrespectful, and I didn't know what was considered acceptable behavior here.

"No harm done. You were tired, so you slept." the smell of tobacco made me wrinkle my nose. How could people smoke that stuff? Didn't they know it could kill them? "Quite commendable, really. Not many people would be calm enough to nap in your situation."

I smiled sheepishly. I know sounds strange, but I remember people by their smells. He smelled like gunpowder, the kind that's in fireworks, and tobacco.

"Oh, do forgive me, I have been quiet rude." he cleared his throat. "Allow me to introduce myself, I am Gandalf. Gandalf the Grey."

Before I had a chance to speak, he continued. "And I do believe you are Miss Emilie O'Malley." I could hear the smile in his voice. "Would you like some tea, my dear?"

I hesitated. What if it was drugged? What if when I was distracted with the tea, he tried to attack me? Eh, I thought, if he was wanting to hurt me, he wouldn't have to distract me. It's not like I could see him coming, after all. "Yes, please."

Gandalf gently place the tea cup in my hand, "I expect that you want to know where you are, and why you are here."

I carefully sipped the tea. It was mint. "Mister…Glorfindel, I think his name was, told me that I was someplace called Imladris? I haven't ever heard of it before, though."

He took my free hand and held it, "Indeed. However, you are not in your world." my jaw dropped. How crazy were these people? "You are in Arda. And as far as I can tell, have no reason to be here. But you are here now, and so far, we have not been able to reverse the incidents, and it appears to be permanent." his voice was apologetic.

I opened and closed my mouth several times before getting anything out. "What?" I whispered.

"Emilie…" he took the tea cup from my hand before I could drop it, "Someone from our world passed into yours. It happens sometimes." Gandalf sighed, "The Universe always balances itself. When that person went into your world, someone from your world had to come to ours. You are the collateral damage."

"I-I don't believe you." I could feel tears forming. I didn't believe him, did I? I covered my face with my hands, trying to disregard everything I had just heard. If he was right, then that meant that I would never see my family again. The thought made me panic. "I don't know how you got me here, but I want to go home. There's no such thing as… as Arda, or Imladris. This is just a stupid prank and its not funny." I was yelling by now and tears were cascading down my cheeks .

"Emilie!" he grabbed my shoulder, "Calm down. You need to consider all that has happened."

I jerked away from him "Let go of me! You're just crazy! I want to go home…"

I felt something hit me in the forehead and Gandalf exclaimed, " _Á pusta!_ _A lorë sinomë._ _Áva sorya_ _,_ _yelya_."

I lost all awareness.

I awoke sometime later, laying on something soft. I assumed it was a bed. I felt decidedly calmer about the whole ordeal, just not excepting. I still thought that Gandalf must be crazy. How else could anyone believe that insane explanation?

I sat up and listened for anyone else in the room. It was empty. Where was Gandalf?

I stood up carefully and reached out a hand to try and find something to guide me by. Instead of the wall that I was expecting, it encountered a vase and knocked it off a table.

I heard it shatter when it hit the floor. "Oh, frak." I reached down and tried to find the pieces of glass, managing to cut my hands in the process.

"Miss Emilie?" Erestor's unexpected voice cut through the air. I jumped, spinning towards the voice. I set my foot down on a small shard, making me jerk my foot up and sit down heavily on the bed.

I huffed in irritation. "Hi." I felt of the bottom of my foot, trying to tell if there was still glass in the cut. "I seem to have broken a vase. It wasn't really old, was it?"

Glass scraped across the floor, and a hand touched my injured foot. "No, it wasn't." he sounded slightly amused. I wondered whether it was the broken vase, or the cuts on my appendages that he found funny. "Your cuts don't seem too deep." He ran his fingers over my hands.

He smelled like ink and paper. Books, I realized. "Sorry about my earlier comment about… Elves." I said, hesitantly.

Erestor sighed. "It is forgiven. It is just that I had not imagined the differences between your world and mine. It is possible that the Elves from your home are indeed small, toy makers."

"Yeah. Only in stories, though." Why are you so easy to accept Elves, I asked myself, when you don't even believe in other worlds? "So… um… what are you doing… here?" I trailed off, trying not to sound rude.

"I am your caretaker while you are with us. I came to ask if perhaps you were hungry?" He sounded vaguely annoyed by the assignment.

"I guess so." I wasn't sure that I wanted to be around him for too long. "If it's not inconvenient, I mean." I attempted a small smile in his direction.

"Of course not." He didn't sound convincing, "I have been temporarily relieved of duties."

"Oh." There wasn't much that I could say, I didn't even know what his duties were.

"But first, let us bandage these cuts." Erestor said coolly.

 **The elvish in this chapter is Quenya, the language of the Noldor. In my head-canon, Quenya is the language used for magic and healing.**

 **'A pusta' Stop**

 **'A lore sinome' Sleep now**

 **'Ava sorya' Do not be afraid (lots of people keep telling Emilie this. I don't think she listens)**

 **'Yelya' My daughter (used in the same context as 'child' or 'young one')**

 **AND DON'T FORGET TO REVIEW :) My muse is a very picky eater, and refuses to eat anything but reviews. *eye roll* FEED THE MUSE!**


	3. We are so random

**Here's another chapter! Hope you like it!**

 **Zip001: I hope this fixes the choppy ending of Chapter 2 :)**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing but the laptop I'm currently using. I don't even own any tea *sniff***

The salve stung when it touched my cuts. I managed to prevent myself from flinching, but I still hissed with pain.

Erestor paused from cleaning my bloody hands, "It will prevent infection and speed the healing." He sounded unsure. "At least, I think it will. It could just smell pleasant."

I sniggered. The salve did smell nice, sort of citrus-y. "It feels like glue." I hesitated before asking, "What color is it?"

I felt him shrug, "Pale green, slightly blue tinted." He wrapped what felt like cloth around my hands. "Lord Glorfindel said that you couldn't…" he trailed off, as though bringing up a difficult subject.

"See?" I supplied. Erestor had finished with my hands and moved to my foot. I continued with a shrug, "No, I can't see." I smiled gently.

"Oh." he tied a cloth to my foot, his clothing rustling when he stood. "Have you ever been able to see?" his voice was soft. Was he afraid he was going to offend me?

"No, I was born blind. It used to bother me, but I realized that I wouldn't have ever known that sight even existed unless someone told me that I didn't have it." I stood, the pain in my foot gone. "You mentioned something about food?" I asked sheepishly, still uncomfortable with asking for too much.

"Of course, shall we go?" Erestor sounded friendlier than before. He took my hand and carefully led me from the room.

I kept a hand on the wall to help me remember the way around Imladris. "Um… what should I call you?" I turned my head towards him.

"What do you mean?" he sounded confused.

"Do you want me to call you 'Erestor', 'Mister Erestor', or what?"

He didn't answer for a moment. "Erestor is fine. What should I call you?"

"Everybody calls me Emilie." I smiled. He was definitely getting friendlier, but I still didn't think he was an elf. "What type of rock is this?" I patted the wall.

"Marble." he put a hand on my shoulder, "Careful, there are a few steps here."

We walked into the kitchen and Erestor sat me down at a table.

"Hello, henig." the voice came from beside me. I recognized the voice, but couldn't remember the name that went with it.

Glory fiddle? Glorfinnick? Glob? Glorfindel, that was it.

"Hello." I replied smoothly. "You're Glorfindel, right?"

"Yes. Would you like an apple? I happen to have an entire plate here." I could hear the smile in his voice as he placed an apple in my hand. "Plus, finding you with food, when he has been looking for some, will annoy Erestor quiet badly." Glorfindel whispered conspiratorially.

Erestor's POV

The girl was odd. Not in a bad way, just different. She excepted the loss of one of her senses, something I do not think that I could achieve.

I looked over my shoulder to see her laughing at something that Glorfindel said. How could she feel so cheery when she had just been snatched away from her home, with absolutely no chance of ever returning? Maybe the reality of her circumstances have not expressed themselves as truth? Hmm, this required thought. I smiled to myself, maybe this would be more interesting than I first anticipated.

I poured some apple tea into a cup and retrieved a few cinnamon rolls from where they were cooling. Why did people continually associate 'autumn' with 'apples'? And of course, apples would bring to mind cinnamon and cloves. Pumpkins are autumn fruit, apples belong in the late summer, so pumpkins should go well with the ever popular cinnamon and clove trend. Apples should go with mint, I thought decisively.

I walked back to Emilie with the food, only to see that Glorfindel had supplied her with an apple, which she was eating carefully. "I understand that you like tea?" it was more a question than a statement.

Emilie nodded, a smile gracing her lips. "Thank you." I took the time that she was eating to study her. Her honey-blonde hair was quite commonplace, but her green eyes were not. She used her hands to examine everything she came into contact with, lending the appearance of an attentive scholar.

I regained my attention when Glorfindel spoke, "Boe i'waen, no veren." he smirked as he stood.

"Novaer." I replied, absent-mindedly picking a roll to pieces.

He turned to Emilie, "It was a pleasure meeting you, Emilie. Do try not to throw anymore vases at Erestor, will you?" he grinned at me, "Even though we both know that he deserved it." he ran from the room before I could voice my angry retort.

I settled with sighing loudly.

"You two seem like pretty good friends." the girl grinned at me. "He does seem to enjoy annoying you, though."

I ran a hand through my hair, "That he does. I wonder if I am just that amusing when annoyed, or if he just has no sense of humor." I gave a small laugh.

Emilie changed the subject. "Why do people think that apples belong in fall, when they're actually a late summer fruit?" the question surprised me. Hadn't I wondered that not minutes earlier?

"I do not know. I personally prefer pumpkins."

Emilie laughed, "Definitely." she hesitated briefly, "Have you ever had pumpkin pie?"

I thought for a moment, "Once, long ago." I began picking apart another roll, "It was actually very pleasant. The crust was really brittle, though."

"My mother makes them. She let's me lick the batter out of the bowl. She always does, no matter what she's baking." she was crumbling part of a roll, picking it into pieces. I glanced down at my own hands and realized that I was doing the same thing. Interesting indeed.

"What is your mother like?" I was curious.

She thought for a moment, "Warm, happy. She has a temper when she gets angry. Always smells like summer…" she trailed off, lost in thought.

So that's what a mother is like. I thought. I wondered if mine had been like that.

"What about yours?" She asked, sipping the tea.

I shrugged, "I cannot remember my mother. She sailed to Valinor when I was a small child." a sudden thought struck me. "If you do not mind my asking, what is your age?"

She laughed, a grin forming on her features, "Don't you know that you're not supposed to ask a woman her age?" she continued, "But, if you must know, I turned sixteen in September."

I was dumbfounded. Sixteen? She must be jesting, I thought, she would be a young child if that was her age. "How do Edain age?" I managed to stammer. Estel aged differently than elflings, but was still quite young at sixteen.

"What's Edain?" she asked quietly.

"Elvish for human." I attempted nonchalance. Of course I would refer to humans in a way that would be confusing to a human, I thought sarcastically.

"We age… like… humans?" she looked incredibly confused. I shook my head and decided to ask Estel later.

"Never mind."

 **Elvish Translation**

 **'Boe i'waen': I must go (Oh, so regretful, Glorfy)**

 **'No veren': Enjoy yourself**

 **'Novaer': Farewell (lit. 'be good'. Sounds Erestor-y, right?)**

 **My muse was starving, I couldn't afford the food to feed him :( (poor Maedhros) Please supply food for my delinquent muse in the form of... *drum roll*... Reviews!**


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